Synchronization
by varetyr
Summary: Alfred loves Arthur, and there's really all there is to it.  Response to a prompt requesting America's view of his relationship with England. USUK.


I originally posted this on Livejournal (under xparallelhearts), but I decided to post them here too, since I stopped checking LJ.

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

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><p>England, America decides, is amazing.<p>

There's no one else that looks as beautiful as the Englishman does in the morning, when his hair is tousled just right and his expression is softened by pleasant dreams. It's a secret that America likes to keep to himself, because he knows that revealing it might make England self-conscious and strive to wake up sooner, but the truth is that sometimes, he wakes up earlier than England does. Rather than shift about in the bed, try to go back to sleep, or move to take a shower, America just lies there and watches his lover sleep.

England's very expressive in his slumber, and America treasures each and every look that passes by the Briton's face as his dreams change. When England is having a good dream, he's completely relaxed, with lips curved into a soft smile and sometimes murmuring little bits of dialogue that never seem to make any sense. (But there are times when America can catch his name on England's lips, whispered in the quietest of tones, and if he has to be honest, precious little can make him smile as big as he does when he hears it.)

When England dreams of his days as an empire, he talks more often, and is prone to moving around a lot. He shifts from left to right to left again, lips curling into either an infuriated scowl or a haughty smirk as he struggles with France or triumphs over Spain. America finds the most amusement in these moments, and sometimes, he even leans in to quietly whisper into England's ear to orchestrate the next turn of events. It's funny, because there are times when his words actually seem to have power. England will be cursing at France one moment, and then saved by a dashing man in silver armor in the next. (And that's when England realizes that wait, this isn't right, and wakes up to a grinning and bemused America.)

America has mixed feelings about the times when England has nightmares, though. England's lips are drawn into the deepest of frowns, and sometimes, if it's bad enough, the rare tear or two (or three or four) slips past his tightly closed eyes. England murmurs a lot and shifts a little, but all that America has ever been able to decipher is 'why'. It breaks his heart, too, knowing that his lover is suffering so much when it is no longer the time to suffer, and so he gently gathers England into his arms and holds him still. America kisses England's brow, his nose, his cheeks, and his lips, whispering sweet assurances that everything is alright; that America is there, and will forever be there, so England doesn't have to worry. That often does the trick, and England unconsciously snuggles closer to him as he falls back into a peaceful slumber.

America loves all these moments, and nothing can really ruin his day after he experiences them. He also loves how England will sometimes let them stay in bed well into noon, just cuddling and lying next to each other, enjoying each other's presence and the sound of two hearts beating as one. On that note, America noticed that England really, really likes the sound of his heartbeat. There will be times when, rather than resting his head close to America's or nestling it against America's shoulder, England will place his ear just above America's chest, and listen.

In all honesty, America doesn't mind. In fact, he finds it utterly adorable - and just a little embarrassing, because his heart always beats just a little faster whenever England does that. But if England notices the change, he never mentions it. He just listens to each thump, and smiles. (And this is when America realizes that England has probably had a bad dream, because England usually doesn't need to be reassured of America's presence and life.)

When America fails to insist on going to McDonalds or Ihop or any other restaurant for breakfast, England always cooks them a meal. It's almost always burnt, but America can't really find it in himself to reject the food entirely. He complains about it, of course, but the fact of the matter is that England's efforts make the taste of bland and almost inedible food into something rather delicious. America won't ever admit it, though, because if he has to be honest, England's rather cute when he's all red and fussy.

It's relatively easy to regain England's favor after minor disagreements like the ones they have over food and table manners, but America still tries his best to behave. When he fails, though, he pulls out his natural charm and his bright, Hollywood smile, and wins England back in a matter of seconds. (England tries to deny it, though, but America can see the forgiveness in those beautiful emerald eyes, and hear the slightest change in tone as England speaks.) America loves how easily England gives in, specifically because England _allows _himself to give in. He doesn't resist or fight against America, even if it seems like he does on the surface, and America is grateful for the patience and trust.

But back to the topic of England's cooking. Even if he doesn't particularly enjoy eating England's food all the time, America most definitely appreciates watching England make it. The older nation never fails to don a little apron, and America won't deny that he's had several fantasies of them living together, like a normal family of sorts. He's well aware that such a thing is impossible, however, because England is England and America is America, and as countries, they have duties that take them to different ends of the Atlantic Ocean.

Even though they've had relatively few chances to get together for extended periods of time, England has gotten used to seeing America dawdling by the counter, smiling goofily as he does nothing but watch England cook. He helps sometimes, too, and those are the mornings when the food actually comes out edible.

America loves eating with England, even though he's often criticized for the rather messy way he eats. Dining with his lover combines the two of the things he loves most in the world - England and food -, and doing so creates memories he can look back on every night he has to eat dinner alone. It goes without saying that he just really likes spending time with England, too, and sometimes, he eats particularly messy on purpose just so England will reach over and dab at his mouth with a napkin. It isn't the action of being babied that America likes as much as it is being touched by England, and experiencing what inevitably comes afterwards. America will give England that _look _- his softest and most genuine smile -, and England, unable to resist, will lean in to steal a little kiss.

England's kisses never fail to make America happy, no matter how soft or short or sloppy or long they are. His lover's an experienced kisser, and though America was initially very jealous of the fact, he has since grown used to it, and even used it to motivate him to improve. He's always been a rather fast learner, after all, and England rarely has any qualms with his willingness to practice so often. He believes that he's a pretty good kisser now, too, because just as England can turn him into putty in his arms, he can do the same in return.

Kissing England - hell, just touching England, makes America feel as if he is the happiest man in the world. He knows that he most definitely is the luckiest, because no matter who touched England's soft, pale skin in the past, he's the only one able to do so now. The scars that mar his flesh but do nothing to detract from his beauty are bared to America's eyes alone, just as warm, inviting lips part only for him. No one else can grasp England's hands and expect those beautiful fingers to curl around their own, nor can anyone else boast about just how perfectly England's body molds against their own. At least, not like how America can.

America makes it no secret that he loves holding hands with England. He loves how cold England's hands often are - a reflection of the rain and the chilly weather that often accosts his dearest island nation -, because that makes England more willing to hold hands in the first place. England's hands are a little smaller than America's, but somehow, they fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a two-piece puzzle. (He's told England this, before, and though the Englishman had scoffed and told him not to be ridiculous, the blush and small smile on his lips had spoken another story.) It makes America feel more secure, too, because England never fails to hold his hand back. It's a small but meaningful gesture that America loves and appreciates, because to this day, one of his greatest regrets remains ignoring England's outstretched hand as he walked away from the battlefield during the Revolutionary War. This is their silent oath, too - the promise to stand by each other's side, to love and support each other no matter what the world throws at them. It's a little like this: one hand to protect themselves, and one hand to hold onto the other, keeping them up.

It's something that England thought of and shared - albeit hesitantly - one night, when they were cuddling in bed. America has never given up an opportunity to hold England's hand ever since.

Needless to say, America rarely holds back his affection when he and England are in public. In fact, he rather likes it, because it's such a stark contrast from how he has had to act in the past, before the Special Relationship became more than a political term.

Hiding his feelings from England and just about everyone else has, in fact, been one of the most difficult and painful things that America has ever had to do. He's had to watch people eye England like a piece of meat and try to entice him to come to bed with them, either through suave words or the convincing buzz of alcohol. He's had to watch people drag England off to little lunch meets or a dinner for two, completely wrecking his own plans to invite the Englishman over to dine with him instead. He's had to suggest the most ludicrous of ideas during meetings that often didn't make sense to even himself (at least, the execution part; the idea itself was usually grand), if only to get England to respond - verbally and, eventually, physically, too.

The verdict? He hated every single second of it. America has never really been a patient nation, nor has he ever been the biggest fan of secrecy when it involves his feelings and thoughts. If he likes an idea, he wants everyone to know and agree. If he is displeased, he wants the perpetrator to know and respond accordingly. If he loves England - and he does, more than anything and anyone else -, he wants the whole world to know and back off.

Given all this, then, it's quite understandable for America to want to flaunt his relationship with England at every opportunity that they are given. (Though really, it wouldn't be 'flaunting' as much as it would be 'acting on his every whim'. America didn't do things with England just to show off; he did them because he wanted to do them.) He insists on sitting at tables made for two people, because he likes the feeling of intimacy it gives when they're eating. He loves opening doors and pulling out chairs for England, too, because England always gets this little look in his eyes that just makes America's heart flutter. He likes being able to hold England's hand as they walk through the park; take him on dates to anywhere that strike their fancy without having to convince each other and everyone else that it was just a platonic meeting; and send him flowers with the card signed 'From America' rather than leaving it blank.

America likes kissing England, too, no matter who's there to see or where they are. They are rarely deep kisses, because he likes to save those for the moments that he and England are alone, and are more often small pecks on the cheek or lips for perhaps the most ridiculous reasons. For example, America obstructs England's way on purpose and doesn't let him pass until he gets a small kiss. (He never lets England start his day or end his nights without a good morning kiss and a goodnight kiss, either. He's gone through enough years in which England wasn't there to start or end his days, and he doesn't want to repeat those experiences when he finally has who he's been wanting.)

So, it should be obvious by now that America can't stand keeping all his love for England bottled up within him for extended periods of time. England has lived without love - true love, _America's_ love - for so long that it has become a compulsory need for him to shower England with every bit of affection that his heart can manage.

England blushes and splutters and complains a little, but both of them know that the Englishman is more than a bit pleased with all this. It shows through the little twinkle in his eyes, the soft reddening of his cheeks, and the slight curve of his lips. What makes things even better, though, is that this is a sight that only America can see. Others can hardly catch the look on the Englishman's face, but America has gotten skilled in identifying and retaining. He notices the smallest of changes on England's expressions, because England has finally opened up his heart to America, just as America has bared his heart to England.

America prides himself in noticing the little changes and quirks about England that reflect his feelings and thoughts, particularly when perceptive people like Japan or people that have known him forever like France don't. Contrary to what people may think, England actually likes sleeping in, or just lying down on the bed for a few minutes before he's forced to wake up. He hates going to sleep listening to the rain if it's particularly heavy, because that increases the chances of him having a nightmare - one about the Revolutionary War, to be precise. Rain in general actually does good job of dampening England's mood no matter what time of the day it is, even though he tries his best to hide it. (Admittedly, he does a very good job of it, too, when other people are around.)

Other than the weather, there are several more ways to tell what England is feeling. For example, when he's feeling a little down, his letters tend to be thinner and just barely connected in his neat cursive, as if he wants to just detach himself from everything and disappear. When he's in a good mood, though, his letters are bold and strong, connecting to each other in broad, confident strokes that form perhaps some of the most beautiful writing that America has ever seen.

Some people might call him creepy for knowing these things, but America doesn't mind. He needs to pay attention to all these nonverbal cues, because England isn't very good at telling America what he wants most of the time. And besides, England is always pleasantly surprised when America picks up on his body's unconscious little hints, and often rewards America with little smiles that no one else has ever really seen. Those always send America's heart into a frenzy - something that should be really bad for the poor little organ, because it's always beating quickly when England's nearby.

Given all these things, it really isn't any surprise that America calls England the love of his life. After all, they are more than boyfriends or lovers, and even marriage doesn't seem to be enough to fully describe their relationship.

America has loved England from the very beginning, when he was just a shy little boy peering up from the tall, wild grass at the strange men that had come to colonize him. He has loved England as a brother, as a mentor, as an ally, as a friend, and as a lover, and is confident that his feelings for the Englishman will never, ever fade. England has doubted him, of course, because to him, America is still young and spontaneous; what he likes now will not necessarily be what he likes later. But America thinks and knows otherwise, because there will always be things that America will never give up on. America's love for freedom and democracy will never change, and he knows - Christ, more than anything, he knows - that his love for England will never change, either.

England has always been a constant in America's life, even though during the earlier time periods, it wasn't always in the most positive lights. Nonetheless, he was there in the Revolution, in the War of 1812, in the American Civil War, in the Spanish-American War, in both World Wars, in the Cold War, in the Iraqi War... and every period and war and dispute that existed in between those times. He was there both when America wanted him to be and didn't want him to be, through isolation and alliances, and even as the fast-paced nation of the free, America can't help but pause to appreciate England's presence. He loves knowing that England will always be there to hold his hand, and to catch him should he ever stumble... and vice-versa. He is England's hero and England is his knight, and neither of them would really have it any other way.

These are things that America never fails to remind England, no matter where they are. He'll announce it out loud for the world to hear or whisper it sweetly in England's ear, say it through earnest words or show it through a myriad of actions. Anything, really, to get the point across - not once, not twice, but as many times as America feels is necessary. And he most definitely feels that it is necessary to remind England every day, no matter who's around to praise or critique, support or oppose.


End file.
